Silken songs
by lynnatha
Summary: The adventures of a young Tymoran priestess finding her place in the world with the fair fortune that favors the bold. Original plot and characters. Some coarse language, nonexplicit sex and violence.
1. The Crossbow

"Well met. I am Shadow, and I believe you are interested in a job offer of mine." The tall, hooded man in a flat black leather vest and matching breeches greeted me with a strong voice, a flourish and a bow.

"The pleasure is all mine. I'm Sylvia, but call me Silk."

"Silk? A sensuous name for a sensuous woman such as yourself."

"You flatter me, but I assure you I am a tried and tested adventurer." I stated matter-of-factly.

"We shall see. Let us discuss the details." He gestured to a table for two in a darkened corner of the Dancing Dragon's taproom. The Arabellan tavern was a known meeting place for adventurers and prospective hirers and tonight had been fruitful so far. I took a casual seat, whereas my faceless employer-to-be carefully shifted his seat so he would have his back to the wall.

"First tell me about your skills, so I may know if you're suitable."

"I am a cleric of Tymora, armed with divine power, my trusty mace, a healer's hand and the good fortune that follows the bold."

"Yes, you would be most useful in my little adventure. Let me keep you in suspense no longer. Lately the city watch has been on higher alert, with a spike in crime and petty nobles complaining of lost valuables and break-ins. I believe I have found the perpetuators, a small band of petty thieves and brigands hiding out in the sewers. Together we should be able to overcome them and reclaim their ill-gotten gains – for ourselves. What do you say?"

"Sounds like a good cause to me. Let us prepare a while, then we'll be off as soon as we can."

I followed the enigmatic Shadow through the unsurprisingly dank, dirty underbelly of the city, sweating under my helmet and chain mail in the damp warmth until we reached a trapdoor in the floor, carefully concealed by a makeshift layer of moss and muck and just about invisible in the murky dark. Feeling for a latch, he squatted down and pulled up hard, grunting under the strain, and the trapdoor squeaked open, revealing a rusty ladder leading down.

"However did you find this hole here?"

"Tricks of my trade, milady," he gestured toward the ladder, "ladies first."

At the bottom, I was in a small room lit by flickering torchlight, with gruff voices coming from behind the only door out. With mace and shield in hand I stepped forth, Shadow leading the way, unlocking the only door out, a stiff iron piece with a heavy duty padlock with a pair of lock picks. I kicked it open to face a dozen unkempt scoundrels in a much more spacious chamber in various states of consciousness – asleep, addled, and alarmed.

The door guard seated sloppily beside the door with a bottle barely in hand was quickly settled with a smash of the skull. Shadow ducked into the room, then charged and stabbed another rogue in the gut before he could get his bearings, a bewildered look on his face as Shadow withdrew his short sword, slick with blood then kicked him away.

The rest quickly answered a call to arms, charging both of us with promises of pain. Shadow, throwing daggers in a blur, took three down, and I hastily loosed a burst of sound limited to the area of another four, causing them to clutch at their ears, screaming in pain. Their brief halt was enough for Shadow to unleash another volley of the rest of his daggers to end their sordid lives. With two of us against only a few of them left, our superior skill with weapons against petty thieves easily won the day.

"Nicely done, my fair lady friend," Shadow remarked, quite monotonously, while wiping his blade on his foe's shirt.

"Their treasure chests are right across the room. Your roguish expertise with traps and the like would be well used now."

"Nah, the likes of them wouldn't have any traps in place. I'll watch the ladder for anyone. You go claim our treasure."

"Sure… Wait, you're out of daggers – here, use my crossbow for now to shoot anyone up his ass who thinks to down that ladder." I took the crossbow slung across my back, loaded and cocked it before passing it to him.

Making my way across the room, I hadn't made ten steps before the crossbow fired off with a harsh rasp, punctuated by a disbelieving cry. I turned to face Shadow, his mouth agape in wonder as a black crossbow bolt, impaled in his own neck, then crumpling lifelessly, a victim of his own treachery – and my defective crossbow that fired backwards. Relieving the wooden chests of the stolen treasure, all for myself, I pried my special crossbow from his dead hands.

"As I said, the pleasure is all mine."


	2. The Caravan Trip

"What brings you to Ordulin?" he asked as the caravan coach rumbled shakily along the long, plain dirt road.

"It's on the way."

"On the way to where?"

"I hate to break it to you, but it's none of your business." My erstwhile companion – a young, blonde swordsman with a buzz cut, a caravan guard like myself chuckled at my rebuttal.

"For a pretty girl, you've got a whole lot of attitude." I smirked and looked away at smooth green forest, a nice break from the crowded cityscape, trying to phase the presence of yet another simpering male fool out from my mind.

"I suppose you get a lot of male attention, but I was just trying to make small talk. Fills out the boredom of the road. Keeps me awake for any bandits springing from hidey holes."

"I'm sure. Say what you like, you're not charming your way into my pants. I'm not going to fuck you. Ever. Forget it." I shot him a piercing look.

"What's your problem? I just wanted to chat. I thought you would be a nice girl to talk to. Gods." He frowned and looked away. A long while of comfortable silence passed until a guttural war cry sounded out from somewhere to the left. There were no mistaking orcs- brutish, tusk-jawed green-skinned goblinoids.

Reacting immediately my companion and I leapt onto the road, charging to the threat. Already two packhorses lay slumped bleeding on the floor, beset by a gang of orcs. An arrow out of nowhere stung my shield and I turned to face a line of orc archers peeking out from behind trees.

"Let's get the archers! We'll leave the others for the rest!" The swordsman nodded his assent and we made for the trees, both of us half-crouching behind our shields for cover.

Up close, the flimsy wooden bows were poor defense against our armed assault. As we closed in they switched to crude axes, but were little match for our skill, and I was dispatching them with practiced ease when all of a sudden I felt my limbs freeze and I couldn't move a muscle. My partner couldn't help noticing me standing stock still, motionless even as an axe swung dangerously close – and parried the blow for me just in time, then swiftly pulling his blade away and thrusting it into the gut of the offending orc.

The archers all done for, a gruff chanting voice sounded off somewhere deeper into the forest, and just from the corner of my eye I could spy an orc shaman waving his staff, powder sprinkling into the air from his other hand. His chanting was soon interrupted by a sword slash. With his death, his magical compulsion over me ended, and I shook myself, getting my bearings back.

"Let's head back, the rest could use help." He said, and we made our way back to our fellow guards embroiled in battle, the musky scent of spilt blood and clang of steel in the air. He charged into the fray, while I stood a safe distance away, still panting hard and wary from my near brush with sure death, working my spells from afar to good effect, summoning a fearsome dire wolf to my side, and the hound bounded to the orcs, leaping and tearing at their limbs and throats with beastly power.

Casting the very spell that nearly cost me my life, one by one holding a handful of orcs stock still and at my fellows' mercy, and with the help of my animal friend the tides were turning in my side's favor. Before long, they were all struck down or chased off. Taking a much-needed break back in the carriage, my armor off for comfort, we were back on our way with no less haste.

"Thanks for that," my partner said as I healed his few wounds by Tymora's grace.

"No, I should be thanking you for saving my life. I was helpless and stunned by foul magic."

"You're welcome. I expect you to stick out for me too."

"I'm Sylvia, by the way. You can call me Silk."

"I'm Bendon. How did you become a cleric?"

"It's a long story."

"It's a long road ahead, and I'm all ears." He flashed me a ready smile, and I could see the earnest interest in his baby blue eyes.

"A cleric of Tymora rescued me from yuan-ti slavers in faraway Hlondeth – a true stroke of luck that changed my life for the better. He wanted to take me in as his disciple – he said Tymora smiled on me on that day, and I was fated to serve the goddess. I was a desperate escaped slave and just wanted his protection, and eventually his power to stay away from slavers. That's how I joined the faith."

"You were a slave to the yuan-ti? That's terrible. I, I'm sorry I asked."

"Don't be, it's over. Besides, it wasn't as bad as you might think."

"It couldn't have been any good."

"Well, actually, at some times, it got very good."

"I don't see how that could be. I mean- you were a slave."

"A slave in a noble yuan-ti family that was brought up to breed with the family's scion. You see, Hlondeth is a city of yuan-ti, and the yuan-ti family's prodigious son was a halfblood – he looked mostly human but had a tail for legs and slit snake's eyes. I was to breed with him to maintain the human features of his offspring for whatever nefarious purposes the noble elders had in mind. To that end, I was treated pretty well. They wanted me in good physical condition to bear child. I got to be his playmate as I grew up with him. That's how I learnt swordplay and fighting. His kind- halfbloods usually become fighters in that society."

"I escaped before I was deemed old enough to bear child. Let's just say it involved some violence."

"Some violence. You don't say." He arched his brows.

"And a lot of running. I was hiding out in the city for weeks, hiding from relentless city guards and the like on the lookout for an uppity runaway slave. I can't remember exactly but I met Kaern, a powerful Tymoran priest. I do remember how he looked in gold-rimmed plate mail, powerful, rugged and strong – the type of person who could save me from servitude. I begged for help, and he did as I pleaded, smiting down guards at the city gates with pillars of fire from the skies as we left galloping away on horseback."

"What came next?"

"He taught me to become a fledging cleric, the dogma of the goddess. We believe that fortune favors the bold- I was bold enough to escape cruel yuan-ti masters, and the Lady of Good Fortune smiled on me, sending a servant of her own to my aid. After that, we went our separate ways. He was a powerful, wandering priest; I was a young girl who was just starting to make her way around. As you can see, I'm doing pretty well."

"Yes you are."

We made further small talk then, he told me about his humble beginnings in a countryside town as a farmer's son and his aspirations to become a great swordsman. Shame on me, I guess, that I paid more attention to his young good looks, the sleek, rippling musculature that showed through his vest, admiring his strong, toned arms, rather thick and veiny.

Eventually the sun slipped behind the western Thunder Peaks, painting the evening sky a smattering of coppery red, cloudy white and cornflower blue. Bendon and I broke camp a little away from the rest of the caravan, and I watched for his certain, longing, darting looks as I bent over on my knees to lay firewood. His eyes, I knew, were drawn to the heavy sway of my breasts and the smooth valley of cleavage like a moth to flame, and I could feel his quietly hungry gaze explore me from tip to toe, leaving a trail of teasing tingles in its wake.

The campfire sparked and sizzled like his simmering lust as we partook of dry rations, an offering too brittle, too meager, to be enough for our hunger. Sitting side by side, I could feel the tense heat that was just waiting to be let loose.

"I'm feeling a mite too warm now, strangely." I spoke softly before slowly pulling my bodice up and away, then turning to face him with my bare expanse of soft skin and a sultry smile. My quiet night was then lost in a swirl of hot-blooded flesh and a sea of stars.


	3. The Strangers

"Nice night for a walk on the water, no?"

The serene seascape that was a clear, moonlit night sky bedecked with a sparkling array of endless stars was obviously halcyon heaven for the grizzled old sea captain and his weathered crew, but for me the incessant sway of the ship to the waves was like the annoying buzz of a pungent fly that just wouldn't go away.

"How long more?"

"Not much longer, my good lady. Not long enough for me, aye."

The captain of the ship, a merchant vessel on its way to Raven's Bluff that didn't mind my company, a bald, horny fellow with unshaven prickly gray beard punctuated his little comment with a puff of his pipe, a sneaky glance and a gruff chuckle.

At least he knew beauty at first glance. I myself couldn't help admire the unadulterated spectacle that was the silent dance of wan moonlight on an unending stretch of rippling water, as far out as the eye could see, a moment of solitude to savor idle peace of mind in a lifetime of strife, a world apart from the dark, murky silhouette of the faraway cities of men.

Then I saw it, my restful reflections abruptly interrupted by a monstrous shadow under the ebony crystal water with a vast swish and swirl on the surface that assured me it was no trick of the light.

The eerie silence was interrupted by raucous cries from the men on board. Pirates! Battle stations! The captain was directing his men starboard, and I turned to face the looming shadow of a pirate ship bearing the flag of dread skull and crossbones, just beside an outcropping of mountainous mass behind which it must have hid. So the captain had a keen eye for something other than my legs.

As the men answered the call to arms by drawing their falchions and crossbows I donned my chain and helm, praying for blessings and good fortune. The pirates gained on us fast, and introduced themselves with a fireball onto my deck, scorching wood and flesh alike to a crisp.

Their mage was weaving his magic again, protected by a pair of grunts on the other ship but in my full view. With a hasty incantation I focused on him, and watched as his face scrunched in frustration, my silencing spell taking full effect. Despite my small victory, as they zoomed into view, it was plain that the pirates outnumbered the dozen sailors three to one. The captain, watching the smoldering remains of his first mate blacken to ash, made the obvious choice.

We paddled away on rowboats, safe for now from the spells of an unspeaking mage, watching helplessly as pirates swarmed on board the empty ship, claiming the precious cargo. The captain covered his eyes with his hands and thus missed the spectacle that was to come.

Out of nowhere a stroke of blazing lightning, about a hundred feet long burst from beside a mountain, streaking above the water onto the unsuspecting villains, the initial single stroke branching into an intricate web of lightning that was as breathtaking as it was brief. The incredulous captain returned to his ship to find his legion of foes lying quite dead, scattered over both ships, their cadavers still smoking from the voltage applied.

"A stroke of miraculous lightning, a stroke of immense luck that can only be Tymora's grace." I offered sagaciously.

"By Umberlee. That's not something we see every day." He concluded quietly before directing his men to dumping the corpses unceremoniously overboard. I watched as the sailors dropped the pirates into sea, staying longer to observe the bodies sink slowly into murky depths, and a colossal inhuman shadow swarm over them and away, leaving me to an unsettled slumber.

At a sailor's recommendation I had supper at Flirin's Sea Morsels, where one could enjoy raw bite-sized seafood prepared fresh with generous sauce by the comely brunette Flirin.

"Mind if joined you? A pretty lady doesn't deserve to dine alone," offered a handsome young man with stylishly coiffed red hair and an elegant suit that bespoke sophistication starkly out of place in a commoners' seaside diner.

"Not at all. I've had far worse company." I accepted, still waiting for my order.

"Sailors, I presume?"

"You don't say. You don't look like the type that belongs around here."

"Oh, I like the sights and sounds of the sea and the gossip that streams freely from the people here. Every now and then I go for a swim in the sea."

"I'm sure you do."

"No, really. It's a refreshingly wild thing to do. I lead a very cloistered existence." He shook his head, looking sorry. Must be a bored noble boy.

"What about you? You don't sound like a local. Where're you from?"

"Cormyr. Just got here."

"Oh really? You wouldn't happen to have seen that ship that got struck by this huge bolt of lightning, would you?"

"Actually I was on that ship itself. Well, I wasn't on the ship when the lightning struck, but I saw it pretty close. It's a bit of a strange story."

"Why don't you tell me about it?" he looked amused, the edge of his lips curling into a curious smile. I told him.

"That is indeed an interesting tale." He nodded slowly, still smiling strangely.

"I can only guess it must have been some powerful mage striking out against the evil pirates from his hidden den in the mountains."

"But, that doesn't explain the monsterly shadow you saw swimming in the water." He smiled again.

"I didn't tell you about that."

"Ah, you didn't. I made a little deduction from the lightning strike. I know about that creature, you see. Care to hear about it?"

"Certainly."

"He's got a bit of a history, that creature. You see few residents here know the city has a resident dragon."

"Strange enough we don't see it."

"It lives in the treasury vault beneath the city, guarding the vault from thieves and the like for a nice salary. Every now and then he goes out for a while, take in the fresh sea air, listen to people gossip and all that. There's not much to do in the vault."

"Didn't think dragons could swim."

"Bronzes can swim and breathe lightning. That explains everything, doesn't it?"

"Just another fancy story. I liked the idea of a mage better. More real."

"I assure you the dragon, a powerful, old and sophisticated higher being, is very real, but believe what you like. You're one of those adventurer types aren't you? I'd like you to do me a small favor for a reasonable price." Our meals arrive. I'd never eaten seafood raw before, but it was a fragrant, exotic delight. My dining partner had a good appetite – he'd ordered twenty plates' worth.

"Tell me about the task, and give me a number for reasonable."

"I'd like you to write about your adventures, keep a journal and sell them to me. I'll pay up to a few hundred or more, depending on how much you've written. I've got a lot of time to burn."

"That's worth it for me, but why on earth would you pay for my writing? I'm no master scribe or sage."

"I've a very boring job, I just stay in a room all day, reading wild adventures is worth the price for relief. I've already got the stories of about a hundred or so adventurer types in my library, and paid them all fairly."

"All right, I get the idea. After I've done some writing, where can I meet you?"

"You can find me around the docks generally. Love the sea. I go to restaurants here at least once a day. I'm beginning to like this place in particular. Food is best raw, you know?"

"I'll see you some other time. Can't say for sure I'll be back though. I can imagine being rich enough for a few hundred gold not to be worth the trouble."

"Come on. One good turn deserves another. If it weren't for me, you would've had to row your way here. Don't look at me all funny. Isn't it obvious who I really am?" Twenty plates of food were now bare on his side of the table.

"You're just a bored noble boy out slumming and fooling around. You have a pretty good appetite, but that's not a purely draconic trait."

"You're not baiting me into really proving it, little lady. You're a Tymoran- take a chance. Take a little time and effort and entertain me with your stories. Never know when you could use a favor from a bronze dragon. I'm pretty good in a fight. I'll see you some time."

He unhanded a small pile of coins onto the table, muttered something and disappeared from sight. I called for the bill.

"Not going with him? He was quite a looker." Flirin herself answered, the diner was empty but for the two of us. It was late.

"Not my type."

"His loss. I'm Flirin, and it's nice to have a lovely girl like you come by my place." She smiled, showing soft dimples and round brown eyes.

"I'm Sylvia, but call me Silk. Your dishes were very special. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were flirting with me."

"What makes you so sure?" You smiled, slyly this time, her pretty eyes looking me over. "I'm closing up. Care for an evening stroll? You've just got here. I could show you the sights… and sounds."

"I'm not so sure. I need to find a place for the night, I'm tired, could use a good night's rest." I shifted a bit in my seat, her eyes a hint of forbidden heat.

"Come to my place. I'll make you breakfast, too," she closed her eyes, slowly licking her own luscious lips, smiling that seductive sly smile, "something _yummy._ How can you say no?"

"Well, all right then. Let's go."

"Come with me, you won't regret it." I definitely didn't.


	4. The Psions

"Sssylvia." A sibilant call with an unmistakably sinister timbre droned on, insistent and unrelenting, until I came to – and found myself in a room that wasn't Flirin's. A room I should've left far behind me.

Nyavin's "playroom" was exactly as I'd remembered, an ironclad dungeon replete with his "toys": whips, paddles, gags and taut leather thongs hung from the walls, ready to dispense pain and pleasure for his amusement. Stocks, shackles and far more devious implements bespoke of his depravity.

"It'sss good to ssee you again, Ssssylvia." The scion of House Ssavanthos almost whispered from behind me, his fetid breath raising hairs on my neck and I strained to move away to no avail. My arms hung limply at my sides, my legs stock still, and my continued efforts only left me with a thudding ache in my mind.

"Have you missssed me? I know you have, sssslut." That forked tongue, barely perceptible, played across my neck, darting around to tickle my trembling lips. His heavy tail slithered smoothly on the clean metal of the floor as he ran a finger chillingly down the length of my thigh.

With bated breath I faced him finally, his clean-shaven, slit-eyed face now sporting a grievous gash across his hollow left eye socket. I tried to look away, again to little use, an invisible force willing my sight to focus on that – that black pit on his face.

"You have wounded me horribly, human whore. To think my family raised you, educated you and blesssssed you, bitch, with the honor of bearing Ssavanthos' heir, to think I lavissshed you with my mind tricksss, and pleasssure beyond sssimple human ken, to think of your bloody betrayal – it burnsssss my blood." As he spoke his fingers splayed across my helpless form, and he chuckled at my heavy breath, a nasal, raspy sound.

"You remember the sssensssationsss, yesss? Even now your mind is ssshivering with anticipation, tremulousss with memoriesss of your time with me. My pssionicss have read your mind like a map. I know jussst where to toy with you to make you ssshiver and sssigh… and ssscream in ssssweet releassse. But not now, little one, sssoon I will find you and reclaim you as my wife and toy. Know you thisss… your mind bearsss my mark. Run a million milesss… and I will ssstill know where to find you, and take you!" With a swing of arm and flick of wrist a whip from the wall cracked and lashed at me, stinging my bare face-

I sat up, clutching at my cheek, grabbing at a moment's stark pain that wasn't there. Sitting still I waited for the deep panting to pass me by, to catch my breath amid rampant, fearful thoughts.

I hadn't thought about Nyavin in a year, in fact I'd tried desperately to forget. I had nightmares every now and then, but I'd stopped having them lately. This dream, out of nowhere, so vividly and intricately painted, was no mere dream. He left something in the deepest crevices of my mind, his vague sifting manifest in blur nightmares, then finally found it after a year, and would find me soon enough.

Flirin slept soundly, smiling beside me, all the while gladly oblivious to my ordeal. I tore my mind from the pain, to the sinful delight of her female form and thoughts of our curves entwined, turning again to sex as my refuge. She'd played my body like a flute, the impassioned music rousing all the neighbors. She gave me a night of gasping orgasm, something to remember in a life so far only fit to forget. I straddled her, pressing her hands to the wall, lavishing her sleek neck and luscious lips with a teasing tongue.

"Can't get enough?" She sighed and whispered huskily, dreamily, her brown doe's eyes fluttering wide open.

"Just returning the favor," so I would owe her nothing.

It was early morning when I reached Oldover House, a towering four-story stone city mansion, right where my fellow Tymorans directed me to, at the corner of Manycoins Way and Hawk Passage in the Temple District not far away from the Luckmaiden's Temple. The Guild of Sages in a city of adventurers, so thick in action and intrigue, would surely have my answers.

"Tell me the nature of your query: magical, historical, heretical or nonsensical?" A gray-bearded old fellow greeted me at a counter.

"I have a psionic problem. Someone is using psionic powers to trace my whereabouts, and I'd like to know how to correct that."

"Come with me, I'll bring you to our psionics expert. Answers will cost between a hundred and a thousand gold, depending on complexity. The price will be quoted and paid before the answer of course," he informed me as he led me upstairs and through a classy mahogany door labeled "Grimaeus Verbold."

"Sage Verbold, I presume?" I seated myself on a plush couch.

"Answer: affirmative. I am the sage that is Verbold Grimaeus. What is the matter?" He arched bushy white eyebrows.

I told him unabashedly about my slavery at yuan-ti hands, my frequent, intimate interactions with Nyavin with a heady mix of psionics, my yearlong affair with nightmares and the latest, most vivid one that promised long-reaching vengeance.

"Quite the story, miss, since both my ring of lie detection and crystal ball of sensing magic tell me it is unadulterated truth. Your solution will cost you a hundred and fifty." I untied my purse and handed him the coins. He counted them, scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to me.

"I have a friend who has considerable psionic talents. Seek him out at the address I wrote. He will wipe your mind clean of all your problems."

In a crowded neighborhood, an innocuous, nondescript residential home is nothing out of place, except that my greenstone amulet took on an eerie, flickering emerald glow as I approached the home of the good sage's psionic friend.

The greenstone amulet I wear round my neck is something I nicked off Nyavin, something his psionic tutor gave him to use during their psionic duels or 'mind matches', to protect him from his tutor's superior mind force. It would glow brightly when his tutor assaulted him with seething surges of psionic powers.

So the kindly old sage's friend was already exerting some kind of power, but the amulet was keeping me quite safe. I didn't feel dizzy, or unwell, but rather fighting fit. I decided to play along, and stepped boldly up to the doorstep, knocking hard.

"Anyone home? Grimaeus Verbold sent me."

"Come on in." A male voice called, so I opened the door and stepped through into a simple living room where a middle-aged blonde fellow sat on a sofa chair beside a lively hearth. He motioned for me to take a seat.

"So what seems to be the problem with you?" I told him. He kept nodding and smiling.

"That's very interesting. Your memories will be worth a slow savoring, and now, I will solve all your troubles." He thrust his hand outward, fingers spread and my amulet glowed hotly. I twitched my hands and sat as still as a statue. He looked me over, smiling beatifically, and then fingering a purple crystal sphere in his palm.

"You see, after I steal your memories into this bauble here, I'll wipe your mind clean of all your woes. Then you'll spend the rest of your existence as a mindless thrall. How ironic, isn't it? That you escaped slavery all the way from Hlondeth, and came for help to be free once and for all, but now you'll be a slave again for the highest bidder. This time, you won't escape, though," he chuckled, "you'll be dead, in a way, an empty shell to be used and abused in any way, and you won't even notice. How sad." He traced a finger from the edge of his eyelid down his cheek.

"I'm really sorry, but I could use the gold. Let's not waste any time." He got up and made one step to me, which was when I sprang from my seat, swinging my mace in a momentous arc, crushing his head with solid steel. The side of his skull I struck cracked and dented audibly with a small splash of gore, and then he fell lifelessly. I wiped my mace and arm clean on the sofa.

I searched his abode thoroughly, looting a number of tomes on psionics, some of his ill-gotten gains, and the peculiar purple crystal sphere he still held in a death grip. My answer would be there, I hoped, but for now it was time to tie up the other loose end.

"So what's the news today?" I asked the town crier with a stack of _The Trumpeter_ at his feet the next day.

"Hear ye, hear ye! Cambion childbirth in the city! Sage mugged and slain at his doorstep! Read all about it for only one raven!" I looked at my new ring. It burned bright red. I just knew demonic adultery was too far out.


End file.
